Pieces of Perfect (17 page)

Twenty-Five
 

In the limo,
I had taken a seat across from Max only because that seemed preferable to sitting next to him.  As I thought back to our flight from Aspen, I congratulated myself on a wise decision.  Sitting next to him could be risky.  But when I’d chosen a seat across from him, I hadn’t anticipated that I’d have to look at him, into his captivating eyes and gorgeous white smile.  

I watched Max pour some scotch into a glass for himself.
 He downed it quickly before refilling it and sipping it slowly.  The air between us was tense, but I didn’t know why.  And since he’d picked me up fifteen minutes ago, neither of us had said anything except for a terse hello to one another.  

Despite the fact that I had become comfortable with Max after I had accepted our new arrangement, there was an undeniable awkwardness between us now.
 Like we didn’t know what to do if we weren’t having sex.  I had made it clear that I was done with that, and he seemed to understand.  Although I guess he really had no choice.  

But even I was starting to wonder if we could really stay friends with the absence of what we knew best.
 From the moment we had met, we had some sort of compulsory chemistry—an indisputable attraction that defied all reason.  The sex without strings was easy.  It was the friendship without sex that would be difficult.  But right now Max needed a friend to help him, and I felt as if I owed our friendship at least that much, no matter how uncomfortable this weekend might be.

I was pulled out of my own thoughts by Max.
 “Would you like a drink?”  He gave the bar an unnecessary cursory glance before continuing.  “I don’t think I can make you any red headed sluts, but I doubt you’ll want to drink those for a while anyway.”  He grinned broadly in a way that left me wondering whether he had brought that up to remind me of how stupid I looked that night, or just to get me to crack a smile.  

I thought for a moment before answering.
 “I’ll take a vodka and cranberry.”  It was only ten in the morning, but I knew it would be a long ride to Atlantic City—both literally and emotionally—so an exception seemed warranted.   Alcohol with some fruit juice felt like a reasonable balance between genuine need and time appropriateness.

As I reached to take the cold glass, my fingers grazed his.
 The touch was accidental, but in no way less thrilling.  “So what is it we’re doing?” I asked, taking a gulp of my drink.  Max hadn’t even really told me the specifics of our agenda before I’d agreed to come along.  

“I’m not sure.
 I mean, I’m still confused myself.  I know we both said things that hurt the other when we were at my house.  We discussed that.  I said I was sorry.  I guess I just don’t see why things need to change.”  He leaned closer to take my hand.  “We had a good thing going.”  The urgency at which the words left his beautiful lips made me think that this had been weighing on him since our conversation.  

It was too late to correct him by saying that I had only been asking about the weekend’s plans.
 “Max,” I sighed, “we can’t.  Let’s just leave it at that, okay?”  I pulled my hand away much too abruptly for either one of us.

“Seems to me, doll, that may be one of the only things we
can
do.  At least the only thing we can do the right anyway.”  He cast his eyes to the floor as he sat back into the leather.

“Don’t do that,” I exhaled with as much conviction as I could force through my lungs.
 “Don’t call me ‘doll.’”  I let my fingers run through my hair as I gazed out at the highway.  

“What’s going on?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

“Max,” I said, forcing my eyes to meet his for the first time, “I’m seeing someone.  I mean . . . I’ve been seeing someone for a little while.”  I took a moment to collect my thoughts and drain my drink.  “It’s gotten serious recently.  I can’t do this anymore.  I can’t do this to
him
.”  I crossed my legs to firm my resolve.

“What’s his name?”

“What?  What does it matter?” I asked, shaking my head confused.  “Adam.  Why?”

“Do you love him?”
he asked flatly.  “Adam.  Are you in love with him?”

I swallowed hard.
 I had always been honest with Max, and this conversation would be no different.  “No.”  But for some reason I felt as if that answer wasn’t what he had hoped to hear.  As if Max would think I had no reason to end things with him if I was not in love with Adam.  It felt wrong.  Like I had no excuse for shutting Max out like I had for someone I didn’t even love yet.  “No, I don’t,” I reiterated.  

As the words hovered in the air between us, I heard them myself for the first time.
 I
didn’t
love Adam.  Since our first “date” to the coffee house, I had felt like I could love him one day.  But over two months later, I was still waiting for “one day” to arrive.  Now, for the first time, I was really starting to think that maybe what I’d been feeling lately was not that I
could
love him, but rather that I
should
.  And I couldn’t help but admit to myself that the thought that it hadn't happened yet scared me a little.  Adam was kind-hearted, protective, generous, and a fucking demon in the sack.  What was there not to love?  

Max let out a subtle laugh through his nostrils at my confession and shook his head before pouring himself another scotch.
 “Fuck, Lily, when were you gonna tell me this?”  

“Whenever you asked, I guess.”
 Why did he seem so angry?  So upset?  He could probably sleep with any woman he wanted.  Christ, he could take the pick of the litter of those bloodhounds at the bar.  
What was the big fucking deal?

“Whenever I asked?
 Why the fuck would I ask something like that with the arrangement we had?  We were just fucking around, right?”  

I managed a, “Yeah, you’re right,” before shifting in my seat uncomfortably.

The rest of the ride passed without so much as a word between us.  I don’t think either of us knew what to say, so we were better off saying nothing.  I busied myself with my phone, checking Facebook and texting every so often so I wouldn’t have to make eye contact with Max.  I was hoping when we got to the hotel and were able to get some space from one another, the tension would be alleviated.  I told myself that Max’s reaction probably just came from the initial shock of realizing that I was serious about ending things with him.  

*              *              *

              I waited in the lobby as Max checked us in.  From a distance, I could hear him explaining to the frumpy woman at the counter that we would need two rooms instead, preferably next to one another.  
Ugh, he had seriously booked one room initially, even though I had broken things off with him already?
 He really could be a presumptuous asshole sometimes.  

 Max handed me my key and grabbed both our bags, motioning for me to follow him to the elevators.  

“I think I’m gonna relax for a bit in my room,” I said.
 “Take a nap or something.  What’s the plan for tonight?  Do I need to be anywhere at a certain time or anything?”

“You don’t need to do anything you don’t want to do.”
 He was sincere when he said it, but I could tell there was a hint of disappointment
deeper down.  “But no, there really isn’t any type of schedule for tonight.  I told some of the other guys I’d meet them for drinks around 2:30 at one of the bars downstairs.  But I was thinking the two of us could grab dinner at Il Verdi.  I made a reservation for 7:00.  It’s a good Italian place, but I wasn’t sure if you’d still be up for it.”

I thought for a moment.
 He seemed to be trying to keep things as normal as possible, despite our earlier conversation.  “Sure, why not.”

“Great!”
 He seemed genuinely surprised at my response.  “I’ll meet you at the restaurant a little before 7:00 then.”

 
“Okay, see you then,” I said as I slid my key into the door and he did the same to his.  It was a little after noon.  That gave me plenty of time to relax before I had to get ready to go back out.  

I thought back to the last time I had even stayed in a hotel.
 It was when Adam had taken me to the Radnor Hotel.  But something told me that tonight definitely wouldn’t be as memorable as my night with Adam had been.

I set my bag on the chair and unpacked some of my things.
 After ordering some fruit and a turkey club from room service, I managed to get a second wind and decided to head down to the gym.  I needed to relieve a little tension, and since I knew my normal form of stress relief was out of the question, I hoped that 45 minutes on the treadmill would do the trick.  

*              *              *

Feeling more energized after my workout and a shower, I was much more positive about the night ahead.  Max seemed excited to have dinner with me, and I knew this weekend was important to his career—and our friendship.  I had come here to support him, and that’s exactly what I intended to do.  I spoke to Adam briefly before getting ready for dinner because I wanted to reaffirm my promise that nothing was really going on between Max and me.

“We are having dinner in a bit," I said, and then suddenly felt the need to justify it.  “Just for image purposes.  I’m guessing we will probably get a few pictures taken.  No major appearances until tomorrow morning, though.”

“Lily, I trust you.
 I told you that before.  You said he’s your friend, and I can understand that.”  I thought I could hear him smiling on the other end of the phone.  “You
are
staying in separate rooms, though, right?”  

“Of course,” I blurted out quickly.
 
Thank God for the last minute room availability.  

“Okay, just checking.
 I mean, remember what I did to that guy at the concert who was all over you?  I don’t have to fight for you twice, do I?”  He laughed, but I could hear his protective sincerity.   

“I promise you.
 You have nothing to worry about.  I have to go get ready, but enjoy the rest of your night.  I’ll text you before I go to bed,” I assured him.  

“Okay, sounds like a plan. Have a good night.”

After saying goodbye to Adam, I focused my attention on looking camera-ready for any photo opportunities that might present themselves throughout the course of the night.  I had packed one formal outfit—a black strapless dress that I paired with the only designer shoes I owned: red, three inch Manolo Blaniks for a splash of color.  My eye shadow was a dark, smoky gray, and my lips matched my shoes.  I had even remembered to pack some nice earrings, despite the fact that I rarely wore jewelry.  As I finished straightening my last section of hair, I silently congratulated myself.  I looked hot!  And I hoped Max would think so too.  

At ten of seven, I grabbed my clutch and headed downstairs to meet Max for dinner.
 I couldn’t help but wonder what he'd look like.  
Gorgeous obviously.  
 But I had never seen him dressed up before, and I was looking forward to devouring him with my eyes throughout dinner.  What was the saying people always used to describe not being able to act on their desires?  
It doesn't hurt to look at the menu as long as you don't order?  
Yeah, something like that.  Something told me that seeing Max, looking so dapper, would probably leave me pretty “hungry” by the end of the weekend, though.

I arrived a few minutes early, and checked in with the hostess who seated me at a table against the beige wall.
 I ordered a glass of Pinot Grigio and looked over the menu while I waited for Max to arrive.  After waiting 15 minutes, I decided he must have gotten held up taking some pictures with fans or something.  

Two glasses of wine and almost
40 minutes later, I decided I’d been stood up.  How could he have forgotten about this?  He had been the one who’d made the reservation.  As I left the restaurant, I took out my phone.  
Nasty voicemail, here I come
.  Maybe I’d say something about how he hadn’t been kidding when he told me that day at the bar what an arrogant fucking prick he really was.  Or perhaps I’d mention how he was a selfish bastard who only did things on his terms.  

But to my surprise, he picked up on the first ring.
 “Lily, get over here!”

“You’ve got some fucking nerve.
 You stand me up and then you think you can order me around?  Fuck you!”

‘Wait, wait,
wait . . . don’t hang up.  I’m at the craps table.  I just rolled for almost an hour.  It was fucking awesome!  They won’t let you make a phone call if you’re the one shooting.  My turn just ended.
 
We were all making a shitload of money.  I didn’t forget about dinner.  Come meet me here.  I need to cash out, and then we’ll eat.  I promise.”  His speech told he’d been drinking for most of the day, and I thought he heard me hesitate.  “I didn’t forget.  I’m dressed for dinner,” he added, clearly hoping to persuade me.